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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091004">like a good neighbor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf'>asexuelf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fenrill Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alienages (Dragon Age), Awkward Fenris (Dragon Age), Awkward Merrill (Dragon Age), Background Poly, City Elf Culture and Customs, Crushes, Drinking, Elf/Elf Relationship(s), F/M, Fenrill Week 2020, Fenris (Dragon Age) Has Issues, Friendship, Grumpy Fenris (Dragon Age), Merrill (Dragon Age) Has Anxiety, Merrill Being Merrill (Dragon Age), Pre-Relationship, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:15:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Merrill and Fenris grow closer over time. At least, she thinks they do.</p><p>[PROMPT: Community.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fenris/Merrill (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fenrill Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>like a good neighbor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>WHOOPS, posted that a bit soon xD here's day 3 of fenrill week, prompt "community"! 💖 i hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fenris is a perfect gentleman, when one allows him to be. She had been rather unfair with him, she realizes now, not letting him be anything more in her mind than the warrior he was in battle. Not that he gave her much reason to - the man never smiled, even when he did. Regardless of joy or mith, that full mouth of his stayed an unswayed line. It was all in his eyes…</p><p>“They’re so pretty,” she slurs, tongue heavy.</p><p>She feels like she’s floating, until her knees knock against each other. She’s wavering on her feet as Fenris pulls her through the room, bumping into guest after guest, people whose names she knows who don’t know hers. If it weren’t for his grip on her arm and around her waist, she’d be on the floor; for her bonelessness or her misery, she isn’t certain.</p><p>Fenris isn’t looking at her - or at any of the other elves in the building. Those eyes… “They should smile more. So gorgeous...”</p><p>“As far as I know,” the man deadpans. “Women don’t like being told to smile.”</p><p>That makes Merrill laugh - and that’s another thing about Fenris! He’s so <em> funny</em>. A quiet, genuine wit. Not even mean-spirited, not really. She had no idea. He never joked with her before.</p><p>He sighs through his nose like the world is on his shoulders, pushing the air out slow. “Remind me again why you thought drinking in a room full of strangers would be a good use of your time?”</p><p>They’re outside now, beneath the stars, standing on the stairs of Melana’s family home. It’s one of the biggest houses in the entire Alienage, housing all of Melana’s children as well as their children, so the stairs are wide, almost half the width of the stairs leading from Lowtown to the main square. It makes her feel small. Fenris sits her down beside him gently, careful not to grab her too tightly by the forearm, and makes her feel even smaller. He’s so careful, mindful of his thumb digging into her bicep. <em> Precise, </em> like he is with his blade and his sharp tongue<em>. </em></p><p>“Merrill?”</p><p>He never calls her ‘witch’ where he thinks someone will hear. Always so careful.</p><p>“You-” She points blearily in his direction. She jabs his chest by accident and leaves her finger there, poking the hard muscle with her fingertip. “You drink in a room full of strangers<em> all </em>the time.”</p><p>“I do not drink at the Hanged Man,” he shoots back levelly. “I only play cards and- socialize.”</p><p>“You <em> hate </em> socializing.”</p><p>“That’s not true.” She marks that down in her mind, hoping she’ll remember it when she’s no longer quite so dizzy. “And you haven’t answered my question.”</p><p>She swallows around her tongue. Is it dry- or… is her mouth just wetter than her tongue, somehow? “You’re meant to drink your sorrows, aren’t you? Oh, I have so many sorrows…” She drops her head on his shoulder, nuzzles against his dark coat. She doesn’t think. She can’t think about it, about any of it, without falling apart. “And you’d be there, helping me not to make a fool of myself…”</p><p>It’s a bit late for that last part, but she still counts it a win. Fenris is<em> here</em>. She hadn’t even thought he’d say yes when she invited him, let alone demand to stay with her all evening. She just assumed Fenris was shy - up until he started telling her snappishly, “To keep you safe. From someone other than yourself, in this instance.”</p><p>Yes, he really is a gentleman, isn’t he? She wonders how she never noticed before. All that teeth-gnashing and glaring - none of it’s real. It’s all just habit. It’s all just fear.</p><p>In the present, Fenris sighs again. “You are impossible. Do yourself a favor, <em> puella</em>: drink in celebration, not in misery. The wine is better then.”</p><p>“Wine is always bitter,” she retorts.</p><p>He’s quiet for a moment, just letting Merrill rest her weight against him on the stoop. There’s a little bird in the vhenadahl, chirping a delicate song. She wonders what it’s doing awake.</p><p>“Perhaps,” he finally concedes.</p><p>Almost instantly, she leans forward and vomits.</p><p>“Though certainly on its second journey over the tongue.”</p><p>“Dickhead,” she groans - and for the first time, she’s made him laugh. Oh, what a sound! It sounds low and awkward, like he’s new at it. She wants to help him practice.</p><p>“Come.” He delicately lifts her to her feet, steering her away from the sick and away from the stairs. “I’ll walk you home. If you begin to feel cold, alert me at once.”</p><p>She only ever feels warm when he’s near, but she promises she will. That seems to make him happy.</p><p>*</p><p>The birdsong is louder now, no longer so lonesome in its tune, only now the sky above the beloved vhenadal is no longer star-speckled and sea-dark - instead it's just too fucking bright. The sunlight pierces through her glass-less windows like needles through flesh and she groans out in misery at the blinding, pounding headache it seems to delight in.</p><p>“Creators, <em> unmake me</em>.”</p><p>A laugh comes from beside her, and she startles awake. Her eyes fly open, searching wildly for the sound.</p><p>“Oh,” she breathes. She relaxes, but just marginally. “It’s only you.”</p><p>Fenris stares back at her with tired eyes, the smile on his face crooked and tight-lipped. It looks meaner than he feels, she thinks. He has this prickly nature about him that is so at-odds with the kindness she’s seen. Especially his kindness last night...</p><p>Ah, <em> the party</em>. They’re in her house in the Alienage now, although she doesn’t really remember getting here. With her in the bed and Fenris in one of the rickety wooden chairs from the main room, the tiny nook she calls her bedroom feels even smaller than it usually does.</p><p>“Oh, Fenris, I hope you weren’t <em> sleeping </em> in that chair!” Her back aches just to look at him, though not as greatly as her skull. “It can’t have been comfortable...</p><p>He stretches, his back cracking loudly. “I have slept in worse positions.” But his voice is closer to a pained groan than its normal half-sarcastic sigh. Not that he likely notices, she thinks. She's been noticing far too much about him lately.</p><p>The thought makes her blush, her face as hot as the sun shining forcefully outside. She looks away and moves to stand from the bed.</p><p>“You poor thing," she says. "I’ll get you some-” But before she can fully stand, her stomach is turning over, and she’s swallowing harshly to keep from embarrassing herself even worse. “<em>Water.</em>”</p><p>Fenris stands, the chair skidding behind him. She feels the sound it makes in her teeth. “I’ll fetch water for us both.”</p><p>“Thank you.” All she can do is lie back and hope she isn’t dying.</p><p>Dandelion wine with her clan never left her like this, nor did the rare dark, fruity wines they made when blackberries were abundant enough for it. Then again, she's not really sure what she was drinking last night - just that she's regretting it terribly now. Even being felled in battle seems more preferable than this.</p><p>Does the type of wine affect how likely it is to kill you? Fenris probably knows. Merrill's face grows warmer. She'd ask him, but…</p><p>She can hear him searching the cupboards for water glasses. He's so quiet, always so careful with where he steps, what he touches; he moves around this world without colliding with anything or anyone, and that's how he seems to like it. He got unlucky with their group here in Kirkwall - he must see it that way. And she already made such a fool of herself. She shouldn't prattle on to him.</p><p>He returns with a glass of water, which she forces down gratefully, and a bit of bread that she'd had tucked away. She hides it from the mice that like to chew at her table legs, but Fenris seems to have found it just fine. Her stomach protesting, she nibbles at it miserably.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he says suddenly. He's looking away from her, like he's embarrassed, but that doesn't make any sense. She must be reading him wrong. "I can go get you something easier on the stomach…"</p><p>She swallows too hard around her bread, then avoids drinking her water. She realizes he didn't bring a glass for himself, instead sitting empty-handed. The bird outside goes quiet; she's suddenly jealous of it. She wants to fly away.</p><p>"It's fine," she tells him, face hot. He makes her so damn <em> warm. </em> It's insufferable. "Thank you. For bothering. Most people wouldn't."</p><p>Fenris just shrugs. He seems smaller without his armor. Every time he's without it, she seems to see him with new eyes. "Of course. I was the one that allowed you to drink so much in the first place."</p><p>That's funny. She doesn't remember much, granted, but she's pretty sure she remembers him protesting more than once at her imbibing.</p><p>He scratches at his neck, avoiding her gaze still. The sunlight catches on his markings, making their shine hazy and white. "If you'd prefer another caretaker, I'm happy to fetch someone else. Perhaps Isabela-"</p><p>"No!" She nearly bites her own tongue. <em> Idiotidiotidiot- </em> "No, that's fine. I mean. You're already here, aren't you?" Oh, the words make her cringe even coming from her own mouth.</p><p>He doesn't seem to notice her shame. He just gives her a meaningful stare, tired green eyes piercing. She can't quite decipher what exactly the meaning is, but his gaze pins her in place like a needle sticking through. Then, he very nearly smiles.</p><p>"Good." Then he stands.</p><p>"Are you- sure?" She can't keep herself from stuttering. Nerves break out under her skin, jittery and familiar, as he looks back to her in surprise. "You keep confusing me. Last night, and now… Wouldn't you rather stay away from me, Fenris?"</p><p>Fenris looks away, his expression… new. She hasn't seen him look this way before. It's not- disgust. Or annoyance, this time, or that thing which haunts his face sometimes that she doesn't want to call fear. It's something gentle, half-lidded eyes and soft brow, mouth crooked and unsmiling.</p><p>"Maybe," he admits quietly. "But- If you'll have me, I'll stay."</p><p>She bites her lip, perfectly still. Then, "I'd like you to stay. If you want to. I won't make you."</p><p>He does smile then, gentler than she's ever seen him. "I do want to. After last night…" Something in his face shifts, like he's suddenly troubled. "I'd prefer to keep you in my sight."</p><p>Her stomach drops. Of course, he's only here to be sure she doesn't become an abomination. Still, she plays it cool - or as cool as she knows how. "Oh, Creators," she tries to laugh. "I hope I didn't do anything too embarrassing."</p><p>"Not embarrassing. You just seemed… melancholy." He rubs at a line of lyrium on his shoulder, wincing. "It worried me."</p><p>Oh. "I see."</p><p>She looks down at the glass still in her hand, watching the way sunlight glints off the rim. It's hardly sparkling - so few things in Kirkwall are - but it catches the light all the same. Their eyes find each other when she glances up, and she thinks, suddenly, that they must be thinking the same thing.</p><p><em> Fool… </em> She shakes her head. He wouldn't see that shine in her. No one has since Mahariel.</p><p>"I'm alright," she remembers to say, belatedly. "I was in a tough spot for a little while, but I'm feeling better now. And I've got plans tomorrow to babysit the neighbor man's wee ones, so… No need to worry about- sudden disappearances."</p><p>"Good."</p><p>Her face grows warm. Warmer. "It's- a little boring here. Usually I read or work on the days I'm here." She doesn't mention the Eluvian, but it hangs heavy regardless, and seems to grow quite fascinating beneath its sheet. They do not look at it. "Would you like me to read to you? Or, you could read to me. I'm a bit nauseous to be reading aloud, I think…"</p><p>Fenris' ear twitches. "That would be… No. You are free to read on your own, witch, but I'd prefer you keep your tomes of magic to yourself. They are of no interest to me."</p><p>"Oh, of course." She blushes terribly. She knew that - of course she knew that. "But, I should entertain you somehow, shouldn't I? I am the host, after all." Then, her face grows even hotter. "Oh, I sound like a sordid novel."</p><p>A low chuckle leaves Fenris - and then suddenly he's coming closer, leaning over her, pressing his nose against hers, and-</p><p>Fenris presses their lips together. Merrill's mouth is dead like a fish, frozen, but Fenris is kissing. Fenris is kissing <em> her. </em></p><p>Then he pulls away, looking smug and almost <em> jovial</em>, like he's just told the most wonderful joke. "You need not entertain me," he says through his amused smile. "But, I can help you get better at Diamondback, if you'd like. I'm always willing for a game of cards."</p><p>It takes a moment, her brain still chugging admirably to keep up with what's just happened, but then she nods jerkily.</p><p>He bows his head, still smiling that half-lidded, playful cat smile, and leaves to the other room with her glass in his hand. When did he take that? Did she hand it to him? She hasn't any clue anymore.</p><p>It suits him, though. One moment he hates her, and the next he's kissing her through his smile, walking away with her heart in his hands. She's not just a fool - she's the jester of the court. A professional.</p><p>She drops her face into her hands and tries not to scream. Screaming isn't good for nausea, let alone splitting headaches.</p><p>"Fenris?" she calls instead between her fingers. The house is small, so she's sure he can hear her. "Could you bring me some elfroot to chew?"</p><p>His answer is delayed; she almost thinks he doesn't hear her, or at least won't respond vocally. Then, "Is it the one tied with red string?"</p><p>She tries to remember what she used to pin it up. Blue for poison, white for cooking spices, and red for healing… Was it? "I believe so!" She hopes so. Fenris doesn't need stinging nettles biting his fingers.</p><p>It takes a while before he comes back into the bedroom, but when he does, he's bearing elfroot and another glass of water. His hair is wet at the tips of his bangs, as if he's just washed his face.</p><p>"Find everything okay?" she asks. Why did he wash his face? Was it because he kissed her? Did he need to wash her away; to be cleansed of her touch?</p><p>He nods. "You keep things well organized. I appreciate it. Varric is the same way."</p><p>"Is he?"</p><p>Fenris nods again. "Isabela and Anders, however, are not at all tidy. Not that either has much to their name."</p><p>"I suppose we all have some things in common," she huffs.</p><p>"Speak for yourself. <em> I </em> have a mansion."</p><p>She giggles, then brings a hand up to stifle it. It's too late - he catches her eye, smiling that crooked not-smile again. Then he sits back in his chair and seems to materialize a deck of playing cards.</p><p>"This is my personal deck - another of my many possessions," he says. His voice is still thick with humor. "So be careful with it."</p><p>"Oh, I will. I'll be very gentle."</p><p>"Good."</p><p>Merrill isn't yet very good at Diamondback, so she knows Fenris is letting her win. He seems so happy, though, warm and soft in the growing afternoon light. She doesn't want to argue it and break this illusion of friendship - or of something else.</p><p>*</p><p>Firi and Nawyn are good kids.</p><p>Granted, Merrill doesn't really believe in <em> bad </em>children, but Calasan's daughters are particularly loud, nosey, and desperate to help in 'grown up' affairs, so Merrill always brightens to see them. They're just silly and honest in that way children are, to a degree that most others find tiresome. Merrill isn't like the others, but maybe that's why she likes the girls so much.</p><p>They're together by the Vhenadal, the three sitting in a circle while the sisters focus hard on their task for today: making dolls for some of the other children. Firi is stitching yarn through the doll's head for hair and Nawyn is cutting out shapes of scrap fabric for tiny clothes. Every once in a while, Firi will stop to guide her little sister's hand.</p><p>They're good kids. Chatty kids, too.</p><p>They've told her all the gossip in the whole Alienage, she's sure. The woman who lives next to them is pregnant now, the boys down the block all got jobs as fishermen and are going away on a ship, Miss Merrill, can you believe it, a real ship! And Athven got carried away by little green men to live on the moon, supposedly, but Merrill isn't quite sure that one's true.</p><p>It's Kirkwall, though, so… It may very well be. She's sure Hawke will tell her soon enough. Oh, and wouldn't that be a neat change of pace? Poor Athven, of course, getting taken by aliens, but Merrill's never been to either of the moons. Could be fun.</p><p>The girls laughed out loud when she said that. Maybe that's why Merrill likes babysitting them so much. Her friends rarely seem to get her jokes.</p><p>That's not all Firi and Newyn told her, of course, but they soon got very tired of airing out everyone else's business and became very interested in getting into hers.</p><p>"You've been kind of quiet today," Newyn starts out, as unassuming as a tripwire. "Is there something on your mind?"</p><p>Merrill bites the inside of her cheek and does not think about Fenris' fleeting kiss. It had been a joke; there was nothing else to it. If his hands lingered when he handed her another glass of water, or a book, or the plate of food he'd prepared for her, then it had been wholly accidental. They were just getting to be friends, and friends become more familiar with each other. It's natural.</p><p>"No," Merrill answers too late. </p><p>Firi sits up, eyes hungry like the stray cats that stalk the fish stand their father tends. "Are you sure? You can tell us. It's okay."</p><p>The corners of Merrill's mouth twitch, but she remains resolute. "Really, it's not appropriate to talk about. I'm just a bit tired."</p><p>"Is it about the man that left your house this morning?" Firi asks. It comes out clipped, rehearsed. The girl should be a journalist or something one day.</p><p>"I-" Merrill's face is burning hot. "Now, girls, really… That was my friend Fenris. He was visiting."</p><p>"Not for a date?" This time from the smaller, shyer sister. Newyn's eyes are large and too innocent. "You can tell us about dates. Cadis and Sahel are dating."</p><p>"But Sahel is also dating Fionni," adds Firi.</p><p>"And Cadis and Fionni both know about it," continues Newyn.</p><p>"Is it like that?" Firi asks her, eyes boring into hers again. "Are you dating Fenris but also someone else, but you don't want him to find out?"</p><p>Merrill could faint. "No! No, girls, please. It's nothing like that. I only…" She bites her lip, then sighs. "I have a bit of a crush is all. He really is just my friend. Now, do we want this doll in a dress or trousers?"</p><p>"Trousers," Firi says. "Does he know you like him?"</p><p>"No." Now she huffs, setting a firm stare on the older girl. "My gossip is hardly so interesting. I live a really quite boring life. Except when I'm out with Hawke, I suppose. The Deep Roads weren't very boring, although there was a lot of walking-"</p><p>"The Deep Roads?!"</p><p>She looks at the sisters, whose eyes are shining and bright, and fights a smile. It's a small victory, about the size of the people she's won against, but it's a victory nonetheless. For at least a short time, she can regale them with tales of darkspawn and ancient lyrium beasts; much better than talking about a crush.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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